The Soul Potion
by Melila
Summary: Harry's detention goes terribly wrong when Harry and Snape consume a rare potion. Rated R for sexuality and slash. Chapter 7 up!
1. The Detention

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. Only the events in this story are my own.

"I'm here, Professor," said Harry. He frowned at the Potions Master who loomed large before him.

"Right in here, Potter," said Snape smoothly, holding the door open for the sixth-year student.

Harry walked into the stone room. He had never been in this section of the dungeons before; these were farther down the hallway in the bowels of Hogwarts. This tall room was so far below the school that it had no windows, and torches set at intervals at around the walls provided the only light.

The door scraped shut behind him, making Harry jump. He whirled around and saw Snape watching him maliciously.

"What's this all about?" Harry demanded. His voice echoed around the stone walls until it finally faded out. Nervous and angry, he stared at Professor Snape.

"Dissolving Potions. An essential part of your teaching," replied Snape, leering at his student. "Come over to the table, Potter."

Harry obeyed. A cauldron sat atop a table next to the wall; several bottles of nasty-looking liquids glinted in the torchlight. Highly disgusting potions ingredients, thought Harry contemptuously. What would Snape do with them?

Looking like nothing so much as a swooping bat, Snape glided over to the table and uncorked a vial of a black substance. Taking an experimental sniff, he drank it down. Harry grimaced; whatever it was, he was glad that he hadn't had to drink it.

Snape held out a vial of green. "Take this, Potter. It's growing late; this will keep the cold out of your bones while we brew the potion."

"I'd rather take the cold, Professor," said Harry rudely. Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Must I explain to Madam Pomfrey while you are lying in the hospital wing, too weak to move, that you refused to drink a simple Warming Brew? You will drink this, Potter, or fail your next Potions test."

Harry winced. Anger launched itself through him. Snape handed him the small vial, and Harry took it. Uncorking it, he smelled it carefully. Suppose it were poison?

A faint scent of flowers washed over him. Harry turned his back to the teacher and downed the potion, whose warmth spread pleasantly through his limbs.

Then a sharp tugging took hold within him. Something in his chest was pulling hard. Harry dropped the vial, which smashed on the cold stone floor, and sank to his knees.

Next to him, Snape gasped suddenly and seized the edge of the table to keep himself standing.

The pulling grew more insistent. Panting with discomfort, recoiling in pain, Harry looked up at Professor Snape.

In an instant, the tugging was gone, and Harry felt only warmth. Snape stared at him. "Oh, Merlin," the Potions Master murmured. "Oh, for all that -"

Harry rose slowly to his feet. "What is it, Professor?"

Snape turned away; Harry felt a slight pulling in his chest again. It subsided when Snape faced him once more.

"I do not know how -" he began. A reluctant frown creased his forehead. "Potter, we - we -"

Harry stepped nearer. The smell of flowers was in his nostrils. "Professor," he whispered. His voice seemed to be gone.

Snape stumbled back. "Get away, Potter," he said sharply. "We mustn't -"

Harry reached out, warmth spreading to his fingers. Snape moved away from him. "Stop, Potter," he gasped.

"Why? What happened?" The beautiful warmth was all through him. Harry smiled and moved toward Professor Snape, who stumbled back once more, knocking the cauldron off the table. It made an iron bang as it hit the floor and rolled slowly away down the dungeon.

"Harry, stop," Snape exclaimed weakly. He seemed to be walking backward in slow motion. His back touched the wall, and he flinched at the cold stone.

Harry could not stop; he wanted to touch Professor Snape. A lovely, flowery fragrance was compelling his mind. His hand moved out.

He laid his hand on Snape's right hand, which was up in defense. As they touched, the flowers rose up to engulf him, and he lurched into Snape's arms. The arms encircled him, drew him closer, pulled him through the crowd of hyacinths and tulips and daffodils to hold Harry's body tightly.

Snape's lips found his, and instantly they were kissing desperately, frantically as they held one another close. Harry felt Snape's hand slip into the front of his robes and under his shirt. As the man's left hand found Harry's nipples, so the right slid down the back of Harry's pants. The long white fingers pressed into him as Harry gave a huge shudder. He slipped his own hand into Snape's robes.

A distant crash sounded as the cauldron hit the far wall. Snape and Harry ignored it. With his left hand tangled in Snape's black hair, his lips glued to Snape's, Harry moaned. The older man's fingers pushed further into him, causing Harry to arch his back and to mutter incoherently into Snape's mouth.

It was Snape's turn to shudder as Harry's right hand found him; Harry ran his young fingers over Snape's member and pinched it lightly.

Snape withdrew his hands from Harry and pushed his student to the ground on his face. Harry lay trembling and shaking as Snape tore his own robes open and pulled Harry's up. With a gasp he descended upon Harry, forcing him open, entering him, drawing blood even as he screamed in orgasm.

As Snape withdrew, a panting Harry sat up and pulled Snape down lightly. He pulled Snape's robes up and entered him in the same way. As he pumped his hips up and down, moving ever inward, Snape's fingernails left marks on the stone floor.

When they had both come, Harry pulled out of Snape and sank down next to his professor. They kissed for several minutes, too weak to do anything else.

Suddenly, Snape sat up, looking horrified. "Dear Merlin!" he cried. "Do you know what we just did?"

A terrible line of realization coursed through Harry. "Was that - was that a Love Potion I drank?" he whispered.

"Apparently it was more than that," Snape said savagely. He was clenching his fists in helpless rage.

"A - a Sex Potion?" ventured Harry, sitting up as well. Snape shook his head.

"There's no such thing, surprisingly. But it may have been a Soul Potion. It makes the drinker's soul irrevocably bound to the soul of the other drinker."

"Why did you give it to me?" yelled Harry in sudden anger. "Do you realize how . . . how f-ed we are?"

"Do you think that I _meant_ to bind myself to my student?" Snape hissed. "You think that I _wanted_ to have sex with a _sixteen-year-old boy_? That I gave you that potion _on purpose_? Or that I drank the other half myself of my own accord? Do you honestly think, Potter, that I would have done that? Especially to a sixth-year _Gryffindor_ who has no better head for Potions than a cow has for Quidditch?"

"Well, what are we supposed to _do_?" shouted Harry. "Are we bound forever, then?"

"It would seem so. There is no known antidote for a Soul Potion. It is ridiculously difficult to brew, and once consumed, it does last forever. At least until one of the parties involved dies, and then the other usually dies of a broken heart." Snape smiled without humor. "Yes, Potter, it would seem that we are bound forever. How we are to make it through your remaining year and a half at Hogwarts I do not want to know."

Harry groaned and lay back on the floor. "Ron and Hermione will _kill_ me. A teacher! And the head of Slytherin House at that!"

Snape snorted. "And how do you think _I_ will deal with all of this? The Dark Lord will not be pleased that his top spy is forever bound to the Boy Who Lived."

Fear tingled instantly within Harry. Would Voldemort be displeased?

The Potions Master looked around the dungeon; the magical torches would never burn out by themselves, but he had no idea how much time had passed since the beginning of Harry's detention. Hastily he stood, helping the boy up as well.

"You should return to your dormitory now, Potter," he said. "I will - I suppose that I will speak to Dumbledore. Something will be worked out."

Harry felt a sudden wave of longing. He held out his arms to Snape, who gladly reciprocated the embrace. "I'm sorry about all of this," he murmured as a tear coursed down his cheek.

Snape wiped the tear away gently, running his fingers over Harry's young face. "So am I," he responded. "But we will find a solution. I will find the person who brewed the Soul Potion, and that person will not escape punishment."

Sighing, Harry began to step away, but Snape drew him back. They shared a long kiss.

At last they separated, and Snape walked Harry to the door of the dungeon. "I'll clean up here," he said. "Do not tell anyone about us yet. I will speak to Dumbledore; perhaps he can suggest the best course of action. But until then, do not tell anyone, not even Ron and Hermione."

Harry touched Snape's long black hair and smiled fondly. "Don't worry, Professor," he said. "We'll work this out, and then we'll be happy."

A smile spread across Snape's usually sour face. "I would say that I'm happy already," he remarked, "but that would sound thoroughly ridiculous."

Harry laughed and kissed the older man. "That's okay. I really don't mind. I'm happy, too."

Again they kissed. Then Harry slipped at last out of the dungeon, leaving Snape to tidy up the mess of the failed potionmaking session.


	2. The Silver

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. Only the events in this story are my own.

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers! I was delighted to see that I had reviews so soon after publishing my story. Thank you to Dark-Faerie161, Tekoneme, and asinininefreakshow - I am glad that you enjoyed Chapter 1!

As Harry stumbled along in the darkness, forgetting to light the tip of his wand to show him the way, he felt the pulling in his chest again. As he thought about Snape, the feeling grew stronger, almost painful. He could feel Snape's lips on his, feel their bodies entwined as they reached orgasm together.

Involuntarily, Harry moaned. And without realizing it, he had turned around and was running back to the dungeons.

The Potions Master cast several spells to repair the vial that Harry had dropped and to retrieve the cauldron that had rolled away across the dungeon. He Reduced the table and its contents, and then he put them into a black shoulder-bag.

Suddenly, he felt a straining in his chest so painful that tears came to his eyes. He slumped down against the wall, remembering how he and Harry had launched themselves at one another as soon as their bodies touched. He moaned with sadness and with remembered pleasure. The pulling increased, sweeping Snape to his feet. Within moments, he was running out of the dungeons and up to the Gryffindor dormitory.

In the darkness he heard footsteps; instinctively he knew whose they were, and an overwhelming rush of fierce joy swept over him. "Harry?" he called, slowing down.

"Professor?" came the boy's voice, and the footsteps slowed also. Suddenly Harry collided with his teacher, crying and kissing him with delight. Snape lifted Harry in his arms and carried him into a room across the hall.

The room turned out to be a teachers' lounge, and Snape carried the boy to the longest, softest sofa. With a quick spell to lock the door, they were free to hold one another in the beautiful darkness.

An hour later, Harry lay in Snape's arms, still sweaty but beginning to breathe normally. The Potions Master smelled of herbs and flowers. Harry snuggled closer.

"You know we can't do this every night," Snape murmured into Harry's hair.

"I know," Harry whispered back.

"I'm sorry that this happened," said Professor Snape softly. "I would never have given you the Warming Brew if I'd known that there was something else in it. And I should have not have taken my own potion without checking it first."

"Well, now that it's happened, maybe things will be better," Harry said hopefully. "I mean, you won't be so horrible in Potions class anymore, will you?"

Snape laughed quietly. "No, I suppose not. Not to you, anyway."

"Please be nice to Ron and Hermione, too. Don't take so many points off."

"That's cruel. Taking points from Gryffindors is what makes my life worth living." Snape kissed the top of Harry's head. "That, and spying for the Dark Lord. And now you, I suppose. We are soul mates, after all, joined for life and death."

"I never thought that this could happen with - well, with a man," said Harry. "I've only ever liked girls. But I guess the Soul Potion doesn't discriminate between genders."

"It would certainly seem so. And I never thought of myself as being gay, either. Homosexuality is fairly uncommon in the magical world."

"How do you think people will be with it?" Harry asked. "I admit that it's weird. Even I don't know that I like it."

"I honestly don't know how people will take our being together. They will have to accept it eventually; we'll always be together now, and they won't be able to avoid us completely."

"Where will we live once I graduate?"

"We can buy a house if you want, in Hogsmeade or somewhere else. That would be convenient if you wanted to teach at Hogwarts as well. But if you were set on living somewhere else, then we could move."

Harry smiled in the darkness. "I love the thought of living with you. If you promise that you won't be mean and sarcastic all the time."

"To you? Never." Snape laughed. Harry turned his face upward, and Snape kissed him on the lips.

Snape's hand had just begun to caress Harry's face when Harry heard a noise. Panting, he pulled his lips from Snape's. "What's that?"

Snape listened carefully. "Probably Filch. We should be quiet. When he goes away, you should go back to your dormitory."

Harry groaned. "I can't stand being without you. I felt so awful when I left the dungeon."

"But we shouldn't do anything yet. We can't be seen together; I would be fired, and you might be expelled."

"But we're - we're soul mates! What can anyone do about it?"

Snape sighed. "Harry, you're young. You don't understand. Teachers cannot get involved with students. Technically, I have raped you at least twice this evening."

"When I graduate," Harry said loyally, "it won't matter. We can live together and be happy."

"You have forgotten the Dark Lord," Snape pointed out.

"But why should Voldemort care?"

Snape drew in his breath sharply. "Do not say his name. I am his servant."

"But you're on our side!"

"I know that, but I cannot stand to hear his name spoken. I may be a spy, but I fear him as much as any one of his servants fears him. And if he learns that we are together, he will kill either or both of us."

Harry felt a surge of anger. Perhaps the older man was right; Voldemort would stop at nothing to ensure Harry's suffering or death.

"You should go," Snape said. He sat up, pulling Harry with him. For a moment he held the boy in his arms. "Morning is coming."

"How can I sleep after this? I want to be with you."

Snape sighed. "Come up to my room with me. I want to show you something."

They listened at the door; Filch must have gone. Quickly, they unlocked the door and hurried up to Snape's office.

-

Behind the Potions classroom was Snape's office, full of vials and potion ingredients and complicated recipes scratched on parchment. Snape led Harry into his office and locked the door. He then opened the door at the other end of his office.

Here was Snape's bedroom. It was small and dark, with a black curtain over the one window. A bed, covered with green sheets embroidered in silver, rested in the corner. There was a closet on one side, as well as a desk and a tall wooden bureau. Snape went to the bureau and opened one of the smaller drawers.

Harry sat down upon the bed and watched. Snape took out two delicate silver chains. Each had a small silver locket on it. Snape lit a candle and sat down next to Harry on the bed.

"These lockets have been passed down in my family for generations," Snape said. "All of my relatives have some like them. These, however, are originals, made hundreds of years ago by a famous silversmith named Sinistrus." He opened one of the lockets. Inscribed inside were the words _Together Forever, Forever One_.

"They're identical," continued Snape, opening the other locket, "made to ease the pain of lovers' separation."

Harry gasped. "Oh, Professor, they're beautiful!"

Snape smiled and kissed Harry. Then he took a pair of scissors from the desk and cut a lock of Harry's black hair. He pressed it carefully into one of the lockets.

"Should I cut some of your hair, too?" Harry inquired. Snape said yes, so Harry cut some of his professor's hair and put it into the second locket.

Snape put the locket containing his own hair around Harry's neck, and Harry put the other locket around Snape. When they had finished, they hid the lockets under their robes and made love in the bed for half an hour.

When the time came for Harry to part, they sat together for a long time. After a final kiss, Harry left Snape's rooms and ascended the stairs toward his own dormitory. The locket did its job; Harry felt no pain at parting, only a pleasant sense that at last, everything in his life was going the way that it was supposed to be.


	3. At Breakfast

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. Only the events in this story are my own.

Snape sat on his bed, alone, his hands gripping the sides of his head. The Dark Mark on his arm prickled unpleasantly, and an appalling thought assailed the man: what if Voldemort already knew of his bonding to Harry Potter?

His hands moved slowly through the raven-black, greasy hair as pictures poured through his mind, images of his own friends, of Death Eater wracked with torment as the Cruciatus Curse shot terribly through their limbs at their master's bidding. Had Snape ever seen someone bespelled by the Soul Potion? No, he had to admit, he had not.

He would read up on the Potion, he decided. Surely the Restricted Section held, if not instructions for the potion's complex brewing process, at least examples of people who had drunk it. Snape would have to study every aspect of the Soul Potion to determine how someone could have smuggled it into Hogwarts unnoticed and slipped it into Snape's private potion stock.

Snape's mind was contorted with weariness. He sighed, blew out the candle, and pulled the covers up around him as he drifted into slumber, remembering the youthful body that just hours ago had lain beside him.

With a start, Snape jerked awake. Daylight was beating on the small black curtain that covered the room's solitary window. The professor quickly turned to check the clock on his bedside table. The little snaky hands read 8:14.

Snape rolled over. Of course, it was Saturday. Still, he was probably missing breakfast. With a groan, he sat up and began to dress.

When he strode into the Great Hall, the tables were clustered with students. Snape's lip curled as he watched little Patrick Creevey and some of Patrick's first-year Gryffindor friends squabbling over meat pastries. Then he suddenly saw an older Gryffindor sitting with his friends, absorbed in talk. Snape's breath caught painfully in his throat as he gazed at the son of his enemy at Hogwarts: one Harry Potter.

Harry glanced up the Gryffindor table to look for Ginny Weasley, but his eyes met a tall, pale Potions Master instead. A smile broke out unchecked as he felt the locket against his chest under his robes.

"Excuse me," he said to Ron, who was looking frustrated and red in the face because Hermione was yelling at him. "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

"I _told_ you the essay was due on Monday!" shouted Hermione, paying Harry no heed. "And what did you do all yesterday? Played _Quidditch_! There's no _way_ you're going to finish the essay in two days!"

"Please help me, 'Mione," begged Ron as Harry left the table. Hermione's yells followed him all the way out of the Great Hall.

Harry walked out of the side door and stood inside the empty stone hallway. Out here there were no bodies to warm the air; the cold December wind chilled Harry as he leaned against the wall, alone.

Several minutes passed. A cloud passed over the sun, and Harry shivered. Suddenly, he felt arms around him.

"Cold?" Snape whispered in his ear. Harry laughed, his teeth chattering.

"What took you so long?"

"I have arranged to meet with Dumbledore," Snape answered. "I want you to come with me. We will discuss the matter with him."

Harry groaned. "I don't want to."

Snape pulled Harry into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around Harry to ward off the cold. "Neither do I. I wish it hadn't happened."

Silently, Harry buried his head in Snape's black robes.

"We will see Dumbledore immediately after breakfast," whispered Snape into Harry's tousled hair.

Harry pulled away from the older man. "I don't want to," he repeated.

"We must. Someone may find out if we do not. Perhaps, with Professor Dumbledore's help, we can hide it until you graduate." He pulled Harry against him once more. The boy said nothing.

"After breakfast." Snape bent slightly to kiss Harry. "I will meet you here again."

"All right," Harry agreed. They separated and, with a final kiss, returned one after the other to the Great Hall.


	4. Meeting with Dumbledore

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. Only the events in this story are my own.

When breakfast was over, Harry bid farewell to Ron and Hermione, who were not arguing anymore; Harry guessed that Ron had convinced Hermione to write the essay for him. Laughing to himself, Harry slipped into the side hallway and waited for the rush of students to pass.

Professor Snape appeared before him, tall and menacing. "Come with me, Potter," he snarled. A group of second-years squeaked in fear and hurried away from the professor. As they scuttled past, Snape winked at Harry. The two of them walked through the hallway toward the stairs.

"S'more," said Snape as they reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"That's not really a candy though, is it?" Harry asked as the door swung open.

Snape stepped onto the moving staircase, helping Harry up with him. "I don't know. I have never had one."

The door closed as the staircase carried them to the top. "This summer," Harry told Snape, "I'm taking you camping. We'll have tons of s'mores."

Snape put his arm around the sixth-year. "Of course."

The staircase slowed down, and the door swung open. Harry and Snape walked out into the large, spacious office.

"Hello, Severus, Harry," said Dumbledore, putting down the graham crackers and closing the jar of chocolate. "Please sit." He waved his wand; two red armchairs appeared instantly before his desk.

They sat down. With another wave of Dumbledore's wand, the desk was free of food. Dumbledore leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk.

"Harry, Professor Snape has requested that we meet."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said quietly.

"He did not tell me the details, but I think I can surmise what has passed between you." Dumbledore sighed. "You must realize that this should never have happened."

Snape lunged forward in his chair. "Professor, this was not Harry's fault!"

"I understand, Severus. Yet you and I both know that teachers must never approach students." He turned to Harry. "Did Professor Snape seduce you?"

Harry gasped; Snape gave a shout of anger. Dumbledore waved them to silence.

"Harry, I know that this is uncomfortable for you, but I must know what happened before we proceed."

"_No_," said Harry angrily.

"You must answer my question, Harry," Dumbledore went on. "Do not worry about offending me."

"I think that that was Harry's answer, Professor," Snape cut in acidly.

"You mean that you willingly -"

"We drank a Soul Potion," Harry blurted out. There was silence. Dumbledore looked stricken.

"You drank a _Soul Potion_?" he asked at last. "Severus, what in Merlin's name were you doing?"

"Sir, if you think that I brewed that thing myself, you are horribly mistaken. I had never seen a real Soul Potion before last night. Even then, I did not recognize it, as it was mixed with one of my normal potions. Last night, I took my Awakening Draught and gave Harry a Warming Brew. I had no idea that we were consuming anything else." Snape ran a hand through his hair, looking visibly distraught.

Dumbledore blinked several times. "And has the potion been activated?"

"Yes," Snape said.

Harry interrupted. "What do you mean by 'activated'?"

"Once the drinkers of the Soul Potion touch one another, the spell cannot be undone. Until they touch, if they are kept apart, there is hope for an antidote." Snape looked at Harry.

"Can't you do anything, Professor?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

The headmaster, looking older than usual, shook his head. "I'm afraid not. No cure for the potion has been discovered. There is usually little need for any; the Soul Potion is so difficult to brew that it is only used two or three times every century. This case is . . . extremely unusual."

"It would be great for bad marriages," mused Harry. "You just drink it, and poof! You love your wife, she loves you, and everyone's happy."

Snape laughed. Dumbledore gave a wan smile.

Harry looked at them. He suddenly wanted to cry. "So, then, what should we do?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Obviously, we cannot risk Voldemort -" he ignored Snape's pained hiss at the name - "finding out, or he would try to use you aganst each other. I have no wish to keep you apart, for you are now soul-mates, but I would also hate to put either of you intentionally into danger." He rubbed his temples. The daylight shining through the high windows glinted off his glasses frames.

"If you truly want to be together," he continued after a few moments, "I cannot stop you. But I must command you now: let no one know of your relationship. Stay at arm's length during classes, and do not speak to one another unless you must. If you want to meet, do it always in secret - you may use the Room of Requirement for that purpose, but never when others expect you to be elsewhere. If you want to employ a secret means of communication, always destroy the evidence. No one, _no one_ may know! When the war is over, perhaps, you can live together in peace; until then, obey the directions I have given you here."

Harry closed his eyes tightly. Snape took his hand and spoke for them both. "We will do as you tell us, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. You may leave."

They rose together and began to leave. As they reached the door, Harry turned around to see Dumbledore watching them. "Good luck," murmured the old man as the door to the revolving staircase opened again.


	5. Until Tonight

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. Only the events in this story are my own.

Once Snape and Harry had left Dumbledore's office behind them, they paused in an abandoned classroom. Snape locked the door, and they held one another for a long time.

"So now we can't talk during the day," Harry said.

Snape stroked the teenager's head. "Of course not. But we will find a way to talk somehow."

"What was that that Dumbledore said about a - a secret way of communication, or something? Did he mean a code?"

"Here, come over here." Snape led Harry to a bench near the wall. They sat down together. "A code, maybe. We could Charm quills so that they wrote in code, and then we could write letters to one another. But we would have to destroy the letters later, of course."

"That sounds perfect. Could we do that?" Harry asked eagerly.

"I think we could. Give me a few days to find a code that can't be broken easily; I'll be in the library anyway, looking up Soul Potions, so I will be able to research codes then." He looked down at his hand, entwined with Harry's.

Harry looked at his Potions teacher and smiled. Quickly, he leaned forward and kissed Snape full on the lips. A bit startled, Snape soon found his wits and returned Harry's hungry kisses.

Several minutes later, looking flushed and disheveled, they bent to the keyhole of the door and looked out. No one was in the hallway. Harry started to unlock the door, but Snape pulled him into another kiss.

"Stop it," Harry protested, laughing. "You don't - we can't - I have to get back to my common room!"

Snape let him go. "Meet me tonight at ten o'clock in the Room of Requirement."

"Where is it now?"

"The fifth floor, east wing. On your right after the statue of Librus the Loathsome. Just tap the wall and I will let you in."

Harry grinned. "I can't wait."

Snape tapped the locket hidden beneath his robes. "Ten o'clock. I'll be waiting."

With a swift kiss on Snape's cheek, Harry was gone. His teacher smiled and checked the hallway before hurrying off toward his office in the opposite direction.

His head spinning, Harry stepped into the Gryffindor common room. Ron was glaring at Hermione, who was absorbed in a thick book called _Why Are Muggles Curious About Magic?_

Hermione looked up as Harry entered. "Harry, tell Ron to do his essay himself," she snapped. Ron shook his head, looking immensely irritated.

Harry flopped down into an empty chair across from Hermione. "I thought you said you'd write it for him."

"That was at _breakfast_," said Hermione, as though things said at breakfast had no basis whatsoever in fact. "I said that just to shut him up. Now he thinks I really meant it."

"She promised she'd do it," yelled Ron. "How am I supposed to do it myself? I don't have the _time_ to write the bloody thing!"

Hermione slammed her book shut, making the Creevey brothers jump. "If you hadn't spent yesterday afternoon playing Quidditch, maybe you'd _have_ the time!"

"But you _promised_ to do it!" Ron shouted.

"What makes you think that I have any more time than you have? I'm taking more classes than you are, Ron! I have my own essays to write!" Hermione gathered her things and stormed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. "Just do the essay, Ron," he said. He linked his fingers together, remembering how Snape's fingers had twisted so easily and beautifully around his. "It won't take long if you start now."

"I'm not going to let her _do_ this," said Ron angrily. "She said she'd write it, but now she says she won't. She'd better make up her mind!" He moved over to take Hermione's chair and began to read the newest issue of _Which Broom_.

Harry opened his eyes and looked around the room. Colin, Dennis, and Patrick Creevey were poring over an old article about Harry from Parvati Patil's _Witch Weekly_. "Look, Colin! Look at that! Did you know that?" squeaked an excited Dennis. "Did you know that, Colin?"

"I didn't know that!" Colin was positively dancing with delight. "Did you, Patrick?"

"I sure didn't!" The youngest Creevey brother had an even higher-pitched voice than his brothers. "Wow, he _is_ so cool!"

Harry pressed his hands against his eyes. The Creeveys really were too much. "I'm going for a walk," he said to Ron, who nodded in sulky acknowledgment. When Ron made no move to accompany him, Harry left the common room, ducking his head to exit through the portrait hole.

Harry walked out onto the grounds. Few students were about, the weather being so cold. Harry shivered, wishing that he had brought his scarf and cloak. He walked around the lake and sat down, his back against the trunk of a tall tree.

The clouds scudding across the wintry sky were gray and forbidding. Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and crossed his arms over them.

Where was Snape? Could he be preparing Monday's lessons? Perhaps he was in the library even now, reading thick tomes about Soul Potions and unbreakable codes. Harry grinned at the thought. How could Severus Snape, that greasy-haired git, be Harry's soul-mate? What insane person had bound their souls together? Didn't that person know that Snape hated Harry with a dark and evil passion, or that Harry returned that hate in equal measure?

"I don't care," said Harry aloud. "I'm glad." He pulled the silver locket out of his robes and opened it carefully.

_Together Forever, Forever One. _Harry pulled a single one of his lover's hairs from the locket and held it to his lips.

Hours passed as Harry sat alone under the tree. He watched the clouds moving slowly in the sky. Soon, he guessed, it would snow, and he would have to go inside.

A few snowflakes fell softly onto the boy's black hair. Harry shook his head, and they fell down onto his knees. Carefully, gently, Harry put the strand of Snape's hair back into the locket and shut the delicate silver sides. Then he kissed the locket and stowed it under his robes once more.

He rose to his feet. The snow was falling more briskly, and the flakes were larger now. Harry bent his head against the rising wind and hurried back to the castle.


	6. In the Library

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. Only the events in this story are my own.

"I would like to read about spells to create codes, Madam," said Snape. "Where might I find books concerning that subject?"

Madam Pince blushed. "Well, Professor, they - you - those books are right over here." She nearly tripped over a stray copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ as she led him toward the rear of the library.

"Thank you," said Snape, giving Madam Pince a rare smile. She looked as if she were about to faint. Quickly, the librarian turned away and hurried toward her office. Snape grinned. He had wondered for years whether Madam Pince fancied him; now he had little doubt. Unfortunately for her, the man was already taken.

He turned his attention to the shelves before him. Many of the books looked ready to fall off the shelves from so much use; likely, Snape thought, they had been read through and through by young Hogwarts couples seeking to keep their correspondence secret from the prying eyes of teachers. Snape selected a book entitled _The Advantages and Disadvantages of Unbreakable Codes_, followed by _Unbreakable Codes in Poems and Odes_ and _How to Keep Your Parents from Reading Your Love Letters_. He expected that Harry would get a laugh out of the last of these; after all, it was not their parents whom Snape and Harry did not want reading their letters, it was Voldemort.

Snape now made his way to the Restricted Section, glaring at some students who were eyeing him curiously from a nearby table. He began to search among the books of rare potions. Where would he find information about a potion so rare that it had not been brewed for decades?

At last, a book called _Rare Potions of the Last Seven Centuries_ caught his eye. He slipped it between two of his other books, making sure that no one was watching him.

"May I take these and return them next week?" asked Snape at the main desk.

Madam Pince smiled and nodded. "I must say, Professor Snape," she stammered, "that you -" She fumbled for words, looking entirely flummoxed.

"Yes?" prompted Snape.

The librarian took a deep breath. "I must say that . . . you will enjoy these books," she burst out in a rush.

"Thank you, Madam. I am sure that I will." And he left before Madam Pince could work herself up any further. As he exited the library, he heard her saying in an irritated voice, "What are you doing with those, Miss Bones?"

Snape hurried to his office and laid the books out across his desk. He hoped that this task would yield satisfactory results.

Harry started, realizing that Ron was looking at him oddly. "What's up, Harry? Did you and Cho make up or something?" Ron asked.

"No," answered Harry, grinning at his best friend.

"Well, then, what is it?" Hermione looked skeptically at Harry. "You do seem unusually cheerful tonight."

Harry lowered his eyes to his plate to keep from looking up at the teachers' table. "When is the next Quidditch game, Ron?"

"Next Saturday, against Slytherin. Want to practice tomorrow?" Ron took a huge bite of chicken.

"I don't think so," said Harry, and Ron made an annoyed sound. Harry hurried on, "It's supposed to snow tomorrow, so we'd freeze. Anyhow, don't you have that essay to write?"

"That's right," said Hermione in rather a superior way. Ron glared at her. "And don't look at me that way, Ron - you know Harry's right."

Ron swallowed his mouthful of chicken and cleared his throat most unnecessarily loudly. "Shut up, Hermione," he muttered.

Harry said nothing; he didn't want to disturb Ron and Hermione's temporary peace, which in any case seemed ready to shatter at a moment's notice. His thoughts were on finding the way to the Room of Requirement in several hours, and as Hermione went on to snap at Ron, Harry didn't hear her.

Dinner was over after what seemed to Harry like an age. He followed his friends up to the common room and half-heartedly listened to Hermione and Ron arguing. At last the mass of Gryffindors began to trickle into the rooms. Harry went with Ron up to their dormitory and dressed in his pajamas. When he heard the snores of his classmates, he stole out of bed and took his Invisibility Cloak from his trunk and crept out of the room. Carefully treading past the remaining students in the common room, Harry sneaked out of the portrait hole, ducked past the sleeping Fat Lady, and hurried off to the fifth floor, east wing.


	7. The Room of Requirement

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters. Only the events in this story are mine.

A/N: Thank you to all of my reviewers: SerpentSlaveChik, Spork or Foon, kagomepotter, dont'trunwithscissors, Demented Chook, Scorpion29, Dead Mans Hand, lillinfields, Phoebe Halliwell, carriegrl, SlytherinSnake-Goddess, and Miki23. I appreciate your comments, and I hope that you will enjoy the coming chapters as well. :)

**Chapter 7: The Room of Requirement**

Small sounds kept tickling Harry's ears, making him jump and look around. Each time, he started in alarm, yet even as the fear coursed through him, he knew that he was safe and invisible under the cloak.

Heart pounding, Harry ascended the staircase to the fifth floor. The portraits on the walls were whispering; Harry was sure that they could hear him creeping up the stairs. He hurried on.

_On your right after the statue of Librus the Loathsome_, Harry recited to himself. Panting, he reached the landing and turned to the east wing. Where was the statue? There were statues on both sides of the hallway. Harry had rarely walked through this part of Hogwarts.

Suddenly, he came upon a statue of a smug youth holding a book in his marble hands. Harry was seized by an image of Hermione, and he stifled a giggle at the thought of a book-carrying statue of Hermione the Horrible.

He tapped the wall to the left of Librus. For a moment, there was nothing, but then the wall opened. His heart leaping into his mouth, Harry stepped in.

The room was entirely dark. As the wall slid shut behind him, Harry jumped involuntarily. "Professor?" he called softly, slipping the cloak from around his shoulders.

"Harry," came Snape's whisper, and candles flared into light. The Room of Requirement was small tonight, its walls made of dark gray stone. Snape stepped forward and took Harry's hand. "I have soundproofed the room."

He led his student to the red couch, and they sat down. Snape waved his wand; a table bearing two glasses and a bottle appeared before them.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Professor?"

Snape's mouth twitched. He uncorked the dark glass bottle and poured a red liquid into the glasses. Then he turned to Harry. "This is sparkling grape juice, completely non-alcoholic. We wouldn't want to do anything that we would later regret."

Harry snorted. "Like what?"

"Like . . . well, any number of things. Forgetting where we are, for one thing. Leaving the room and telling someone about us." The older man handed one glass to Harry.

They drank, and Snape presently set his glass down. "Are you in the mood to do some work?"

"What kind of work?"

Snape motioned to the pile of books in the corner. "I have checked out some books from the library. We would do well to read about the Soul Potion -- who has drunk it, for example, or how it is made. It has been years since I studied it."

"You don't know much about it?" Harry asked, draining his glass.

The professor shook his head. "No. Do you have any idea how rare it is?"

"Professor Dumbledore said that it's only made a few times every century," Harry supplied. "Is that what you mean?"

"Partly, yes." Snape picked up _Rare Potions of the Last Seven Centuries_. "It is one of the most difficult potions to brew, I remember that much. Someone drank it about thirty years ago; I know that as well."

"Who drank it then?"

"I don't know. There was a big stir in the Potions community because we knew that someone had managed to gather all of the necessary ingredients. I was younger than you are now; my parents were involved with the effort to discover who drank the last Soul Potion. They wanted to study the potion's effects."

Harry leaned back and gazed at Snape. "It sounds very complicated."

Snape nodded. "Yes. They were certain that someone had taken the potion, but they could not find out who. Some of the wizards are still working on that puzzle today. It was one of the most advanced --" He broke off abruptly as Harry kissed him.

For a moment they were silent, basking in one another's touch. Harry took the book from Snape's hand and laid it upon the table. "Let's read about it later," he murmured, stroking Snape's knee.

Snape shuddered and shut his eyes for a moment. "This is important, Harry -- you must understand -- we must do this soon --"

Again, his words were cut off when Harry kissed him. Snape's reluctance seemed to melt as he pushed Harry gently down onto the sofa. The boy moaned as his teacher descended upon him.

Suddenly, they broke apart, for the couch had transformed beneath them to a large double bed. Harry laughed, somewhat breathlessly. "Convenient. I wonder whether this room knows what we're doing."

"Careful," murmured Snape. "It might hear you, and it might reveal this to someone later."

"If it doesn't hear me," said Harry, "it will certainly see us, anyway, won't it?"

"That is true. Very well." Snape smiled and kissed his student once more.


End file.
